Just a Job
by PissyNovelist
Summary: Eris Gray; beautiful, feared, once a revered crime boss. She left her empire behind to start all over again in a new city with new scores with only one lead; a phone number to a childhood hero Eris only knows as M. All she wants is to get back in the field where her heart belongs, but the interesting characters she meets along the way make her realize she's missing something.
1. Chapter 1

**Nothing like writing a story at midnight when you haven't done anything creative for months and you have to be up in six hours. I don't know what this is. I'm just super interested in Trevor right now.**

The one thing Eris enjoyed about Los Santos was how it felt like summer every day of the year. She could wear the clothing that made for an easy getaway.

She jumped out of her pick-up truck, worn out kicks inspiring a certain skip in her step as she headed towards the bar. With delicate fingers, Eris pulled the crumped pack of cigarettes from the pocket of her jean shorts, sticking one between her lips. With a light and a haul, she sucked in the sweet nicotine. Eris felt her jitters subside from her long, smokeless drive. Her wavy brown locks flowed majestically with the breeze as she took a moment to enjoy her new surroundings.

She stuffed the cigarettes back in her pocket and grabbed her cell phone from her back pocket. Eris dialed the numbers scribbled on a napkin, a satisfied smirk upon her lips when it began to ring.

"_Hello_?" A male voice barked into her ear.

"I heard you were the man to call if I was lookin' for a job." Eris grinned.

"Wrong number." He barked again. Eris let the moment drag out as she took a large haul off her smoke. He didn't hang up. With a sharp exhale, she chuckled in the back of her throat.

"Bullshit. They call you 'M', right? I know for a fact you did some stellar shit, the type of shit that got me into this line of work-"

"I'm out of the game, lady."

"I don't give a shit. Out of the game, in the middle of the game, on fucking half time. You know people. Give me the number of someone I can call."

Another silent moment, this time initiated by M. Eris smiled big; the bomb was dropping. She had heard M was a central hub for all that was crime. He knew all the good people, knew the good scores.

"People don't just get my number by accident. I'm going to assume someone reliable informed you on how to contact me. I'm in some deep shit here. If you want a job, I'll give you a fucking job. I need to see a resume though."

"Splendid. When and where do you want to meet? I'll show you my skill set." Eris laughed. To work with the enigma M had been her life-long dream; sitting three inches away from the bright television screen, watching the enigma M and his team of kickass motherfuckers get chased but never caught by the pigs.

"There's a little diner up the road from the ammu-nation on 92nd street. Meet me in an hour."

Eris received nothing else but a dial tone, but she couldn't be happier. She finished off her cigarette and tossed it behind her. She hopped back in her truck and fired up the engine, her heart racing. She cranked the radio as she drove, practically flying over the potholed streets without a care. It had been too long since she put her hands to field work; sitting at the top for so long, ordering others to do shit for you, kind of leaves you feeling out of practice.

Eris drove up the backstreets, a practice learned from years of experience. Not only is it safer, she preferred the solitude. She loved to drive… she loved the drive. She admired the backs of stores and long alleyways where the prostitutes claimed territory when the sun went down; the scummy parts of Los Santos they desperately tried to mask with their special water and cheap plastic surgery.

She didn't care people were getting work done, it was the half ass hack job everyone seemed to settle for she hated.

She was ten minutes away from the diner, ready to turn the corner into the final alley before the main streets. As her hand settled over the other to turn the wheel, someone yanked her car door open and grabbed her with a violently tight grip.

"Gonna need this vehicle, Trevor Phillips Industries confidentiality!" A gruff voice took her off guard. Eris yelled, not having time to grab her gun from the glove compartment. She hit the ground with a slight bounce, giving her a moment to look up at the piece of shit who was trying to jack her truck.

Scummy, grimy, scared, and disgusting. She snarled, yanking the knife from under the leg of her shorts.

"You're gonna need to go fuck yourself." Eris shanked the man in the leg who fell beside her with a growl. She pulled her knife out and tossed it aside, mounting the man with tightly curled fists.

"Hey, hey, hey! This shit ain't fair, I just want the goddamn fucking truck. I don't believe in hitting women." The stranger screamed at her, clearly more enraged than anything else. True to his word, however, he made no move to throw her away.

"Oh yeah? What a good Samaritan! Good thing I don't believe the same, you fuck." Eris dropped a fist to the man's jaw, not once, but three times. Her knuckles, weak from lack of use, were already cut from the connection of his teeth through his cheeks.

"Holy shit, lady, fuckin' cut it out! I fuckin' get it." The man coughed, blood spurting up onto her tank top. Eris grabbed her knife and held it to the man's throat.

"If you get up before I'm well out of your sight, I will put you in my fuckin' basement and kick the shit outta you daily until I grow bored of you, then I'll leave you to rot." She stood with a peppy jump, spitting in his general direction before jumping back into her favourite pick-up truck and leaving him far in her past.

The man known as Trevor watched her truck pull up and around the corner, fully out of his view before letting his head fall back onto the harsh pavement.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to break his rule on hitting women or falling in love.

**Sorry if this sucks, like I said, haven't written anything in a very long time.**


	2. Chapter 2

Eris, not in the good mood she was before, pulled up to the diner. No one sat in the windows and there were one to many waitresses on duty. They were huddled around the kitchen door, laughing and giggling. She spotted a solitary man, sitting in the back corner booth. Eris felt her tense body loosen almost instantly.

Eris gave a smile to the waitresses who didn't seem to notice her entry. She didn't mind, the less people who noticed, the better. She made a B line to the lone man, two steaming cups of coffee sitting upon the table. He didn't raise his eyes to her; they simply existed in the same space. Eris sighed.

"You've looked like you've gained some weight from when I last saw your ass on the news, M." Eris chuckled and M rolled his eyes.

"I've been getting that a lot lately. You're late." The older man, whose real name Eris didn't know, smirked.

"I woulda been early, but some asshole tried to jack my car when I was fucking sitting in it." She sat, lifting her legs to sit cross-legged in the booth. M slid a cup of coffee in her direction, and she accepted, pouring sugar and cream into the dark liquid.

"Holy shit, you were still in the car?" He seemed to laugh at that.

"Yeah," Eris lifted her left arm, bruises already forming form when that piece of shit grabbed her ", manhandled me right into next week. But what kind of criminal would I be without war wounds. Kicked his ass, though." M grimaced; clearly feeling phantom pains as he shook his own left arm.

"I need a name to call you, my dear stranger." M took a sip of his coffee, clearly wanting to do business and no pleasure.

"Not my real name, I assume." Eris raised her eyebrows.

"You assume correctly."

"Baby Firefly, Baby on a job."

"Huh," M smirked again, a small snort escaping him ", that's different. Call me Mike, but if we're on a job, call me M." Eris gave a thumbs up, mug against her lips.

Eris grinned, taking a large gulp of her drink. She grabbed a piece of paper from her back pocket, which was folded over and stained from the dark denim of her shorts. She flicked it Mike's way and watched him read.

"I can see you're a jack of all trades, master of a handful. Interesting skill set, especially that old school shit. Glass cutting, alarm disabling, lock picking? I can definitely find room for you on my team." He seemed genuinely impressed. Eris figured he'd been working with the same team for years before going into hiding; she must be refreshing.

"So when do I get to meet the rest of the team?" Eris grinned, finishing her coffee in a few short swigs. A moment of silence passed as a pretty blonde waitress refilled her cup. They watched her retreat to her flock of waitresses before speaking again.

"Should be here any moment. F should be, anyway. Not sure about the other guy, T. He's a fucking psychotic asshole. Is probably just finishing burying a prostitute." Mike sighed, his eyes rolling just enough to be noticeable. Eris laughed at that.

"And who does what?" Eris divulged in her curiosity. She missed the planning of a job, being close with your team mates that have no idea who you really are. She wanted to get man-handled back into the business.

"Well, you and F and I are the brains with separate but equal skillsets. T is just a tank," Mike laughed a short, abrasive laugh ", oh, speaking of the damn devil."

Eris turned around, the bright sun casting a silhouette of two men, one leaning on the other. The door flung opened, the little bell above the door nearly flying off.

"Hey," the large black man yelled to the waitresses ", y'all have a first aid kit? My friend needs help!" One of the waitresses nodded and scurried off, coming back quick with a white case.

Mike lifted his head and walked to the pair and Eris followed suit. She stopped dead in her tracks just a few feet from the boys, her mouth hanging open with just a hint of a smirk. There he stood, bloodied and propped up by his friend; the asshole who tried to steal her truck.

"I found him like this in the alley a block away, he's been talking about a bitch or somethin'." The man supporting him spilled to Mike as he walked towards them.

"The fuck happened, Trev?" Mike called, arms out and brows furrowed.

"Well, it's kind of an interesting story. There I was, minding my own damn business, when I get a call from you to meet you at the diner in twenty minutes," The dirty man lifted his head, his pained face still somehow falling into an intimidating expression ", and so I grab a car. But I happened to… _underestimate_ the ability of the little girl in the driver's seat." T coughed, some blood sputtering out mixed with saliva.

"Little girl who seemed to whoop your ass." Eris snickered and Trevor noticed. They met eyes and Eris let her smirk grow into a great big smile.

"_That_ little bitch _right_ there! She kicked the shit out of me, she fuckin' _stabbed_ me in the god damn leg." Trevor's anger grew, and despite his state, went to lunge for her. Eris was ready for round two, walking forward with a certain strut that seemed to anger Trevor even more.

"Yeah, I did. How 'bout I aim a little higher than mid-thigh this time?"

The large black man, which Eris assumed to be F, held back Trevor. Mike held out his arm and stopped Eris.

"Calm the fuck down, Trev. You two have to fuckin' work together." Mike held a hand on Trevor's chest, but the grimy man couldn't take his eyes off the girl.

"Don't you tell me to calm the fuck down! Let her stab you in the fucking leg and see how you like it!" Eris wondered how he wasn't losing his voice.

"Jesus Christ, fuckin' relax. If we have to work together, we might as well bury the hatchet." Eris shrugged, ready to move on. She had made her point, he would never try to steal her shit ever again.

"After a fuckin'_ kill_ you with said hatchet."

"I'll buy you a beer."

Everyone stopped, even the waitresses, to stare at Trevor. His eyes refused to leave her face, unimpressed pursed lips growing more and more pursed with each passing second.

"I accept your apology."


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm jazzed that people want to read more. It'll be, probably, one of my shittier stories. Like I said in the first chapter, I haven't written anything worthwhile for years. So thanks for wanting to read it, it makes me feel good!**

Trevor enjoyed his second beer; at least, Eris assumed he enjoyed it. He was pretty quiet, wedged in the corner of the booth. He looked drained, fidgety. Definitely not the man she stabbed in an alley way.

"I'm trusting you, Baby. By hiring you, I'm hoping to save the cut we'd usually waste on someone who gets lucky on someone who knows what they're doing. You need to impress me." Mike spoke, and Eris pretended to care. She was far beyond giving a shit about impressing him. Work with him, adore him, drink a few beers with him; yes. Impress him? No.

"When do we get to case?" Franklin, so Eris had learned, spoke for the first time since the ordeal.

"How 'bout now? T and I can go in, check out the security, see when shifts change and shit. I'll send you and Baby to the roof and see if her expertise come in handy." Michael spoke to Franklin, giving Eris an odd glance as he spoke of her. T seemed to groan, fishing a little white pill from his pocket.

"Sounds like a plan." Franklin gave a nod, standing up to offer the girl some room.

"Before you go, here." Mike held out a mic to Eris. Every criminal used the same brand. She clipped it in her hear and put herself on mute for the time being.

"Let's get elbow deep in some minor crime, boys." Eris laughed, sliding out of the booth, leading Franklin to her truck. The teams parted separate ways, not wanting to draw attention to themselves as the approached the bank.

They drove in silence for a few blocks, until they hit a red light. She heard Franklin shift, coughing softly to clear his throat.

"So, they call you Baby. Why's that?" His voice was cautious but welcoming. It seemed so contradictory, but in this field, almost everything was. You don't know the guys you're working with, but you have to trust them to cover your ass.

"Well. A lot of people I work with have common names. Bob's, Joe's, Franklin's, Mike's… Eris, however, is not common. Some asshole gets caught and wants to get a deal, I'll be easy to find. Baby Firefly? No one can find her."

"Shit's smart." She could tell Franklin was genuine. Young, but not foolish.

"Plus, Baby Firefly was this sweet Rob Zombie character. Super insane. She makes me laugh." Eris chuckled, pulling a pack of smokes from beside her seat. She offered the pack to her driving pal, but he declined.

"Fuck, you'd have to be insane to stab Trevor Phillips in the leg."

"What the fuck is up with that guy?" Eris slapped the wheel, letting a huff of smoke escape her lungs, pulling into an alley a block away from the bank.

"Don't really know. I'd ask Michael, they've got history or somethin' like that." Both pleased with their enlightening chat, and Eris having grabbed her gun from the compartment, they hopped out of the truck and made their way through the back streets.

"Alright," Eris sighed, tucking her gun into the back of her shorts ", I'm gonna need a boost." She finished her cigarette and tossed the butt down a storm drain, waiting for Franklin to catch up as she stared up at the hitched fire escape.

She set her foot in his large hands and let him lift her. Grabbing onto the bottom rung of the latter, she pulled herself up, legs kicking wildly until she managed to regain her footing. She signaled to Franklin, then kicked out of bolt that held the bottom half of the latter up. It fell with a bang, but mid-day Los Santos took it for nothing more than another gunshot going off.

"When Mike called me, he said you were some crime lord from Liberty or Vice or wherever. That true?"

"Indeed it is, my pal in crime." She huffed, as she reached the roof, stumbling on her weak legs. It had been awhile since she had to do the heavy work.

"Mind if I ask why you left?"

"I do."

"I'm just sayin' man. Anyone who would leave livin' like royalty behind has some serious shit going on." Eris found herself growing more disinterested with Franklin every time he spoke.

"Curiosity got the cat shot and buried in the woods." She looked back at Franklin with a smirk, watching him shrug her off.

"You piss of the mob or somethin'? Do I have to worry about some fat Italian man knockin' at my door?" Eris only half listened to his concerns. She had pulled the pocket knife from her pocket and started to remove the screws from the vent system.

"Italian mob isn't full of fat Italian guys with slicked hair, most of them are young, thin, and handsome as fuck. Little shits, though." Eris snorted.

"You've tangoed with some motherfuckers."

"Oh, it's not that bad. I'll take the mob over that animal Trevor any day of the week," she tossed the vent away and leaned in ", hold my feet." She felt him grasp her ankles and allowed herself to slip over and down. She tapped the vent and she was being pulled back up.

"Hey, M," She tapped the mic in her ear ", you boys in?"

"Yeah, what do you see, Baby?" Eris hid a chuckle; Mike sounded like a nasty old man when he called her Baby. No one ever called her Firefly.

"See a vent in the ceiling?" Eris heard nothing but static for a moment, before a happy voice belonging to old, fat Mike sounded through her ears.

"Indeed there is."

"Access to it is from the roof. We can drop a smoke bomb or tear gas down it, get the upper hand. I'm about to try and dismantle the alarm. Get out and hang across the street, if I bomb this, start timing."

"Well, well, I think I like it when you order me around." A voice, more gruff than Mike's, flowed into her ear. Eris felt her stomach churn.

She shook off the feeling like someone had just groped her in the back of the bus and got back to work. She jogged over to the back wall and hung over the side. She came face to face with her reflection in the old school silver alarm. With her handy tool, she pulled off the main plate, cut a few wires and bent a few pieces; rendering the alarm useless.

"Physical alarm is disarmed, but they might still have an electrical one. Have a computer geek on that shit?" She spoke into her mic

"Lester the Molester!" Trevor screeched into all of their ears. Eris didn't question it.

"We'll head to him tomorrow. How about we call it a day and start prep tomorrow. Baby, where're you staying for the time being?" Mike asked.

"Not sure. I gotta find a hotel to hole up in for a week or so before finding myself a permanent residence. I'll call you with my details in a few hours."

"Gotcha."

The pair climbed off the roof and, for the time being, went four separate ways.


	4. Chapter 4

**Reading week had come. I will not be reading! I will be writing! Again, thanks for the kind reviews!**

Eris was ready to pull into the Lucky Motel 7 before seeing the smoky bar it was nuzzled beside. She nabbed a room from the sweaty, fat clerk. Room fourteen, upper floor, right beside the main staircase. She left her truck parked in the lot and made the short walk into the bar.

It was dark and smoky, Life on Mars? playing on the jukebox; where people go to forget who they are. She loved it. She lit up a smoke and sat in the corner booth and snuggled herself in the corner, lifting her legs onto the booth. She ordered a margarita; not usually the best of drinks, but this bar was generous with their tequila.

Three drinks and six cigarettes in, her head already starting to slowly hum, she felt someone watching her. She considered ignoring it, but she heard footsteps begin to approach her and knew she couldn't avoid it much longer. Lifting her gaze, she saw Trevor stalking towards her.

"For a _world class criminal_, I figured you'da learned to hide your truck." He spoke, quite as a matter-of-factly.

"For a person with a heartbeat, I should've known you would have followed me, because you're a bit of a creep. What? Didn't get enough of me in the first round?" She spoke, voice laved with monotone, as she finished her margarita. She ordered a better drink; rum and coke.

"Feisty! I love that! Why don't we cut the shit, let's get married! I'll whisk you away to Sandy Shores and show you how to live! All the cheap beer you want, best STD free sex you can ask for from that little white bred mountain town!" He slunk down into her booth, and her personal space, batting his dim eyes at her.

"I'll pass." Eris withheld her laugh; the guy was funny. But she was sure he wasn't joking.

"Three proposals rejected in two days. Your loss, _Baby_, I'm a fuckin' catch!" Eris cringed; he sounded grosser than M when he called her Baby. He made some sort of 'tsk' noise while shaking his head.

"So, Trevor, why did you follow me?" She downed her drink in a gulp and ordered another, as well as ordering a beer for Trevor. She might as well play nice for now.

"Just_ interested_ in my new team-mate. I know lots about Franklin, too much about Mikey, and nothin' about you," He let his eyes roam over her, clearly checking her assets ", Franklin did tell me you're _quite _the shady character. Dodgy, not wanting to answer simple questions. Real sketchy all around."

"Like you assholes don't have skeletons in the closet." Eris rolled her eyes, telling the waitress to hold off on bringing drinks for the time being. She didn't need to have shitty judgement while Trevor was in the mix.

"I don't." He shrugged.

"You wouldn't. Pretty sure you ground up the bones for stew."

"What the _fuck_ did Mike tell you? That was _one_ fuckin' time, I was starving and broke! That little fuckin' traitor!" He slammed his fists on the table, yelling through clenched teeth.

Eris watched him have his temper tantrum. From zero to shut the fuck down in half a second.

"I… I was just being a smart ass." She went to pat his shoulder, but decided against it. It was clear Trevor was morphing to be a special type of psychopath.

"Oh," he grumbled, hunching over the table ", well. Why the _fuck_ are you being so secretive? Spit it out.'

"Because I believe in professionalism. Separate my work life from my personal life."

"I have a friend and he does all that fancy computer shit. Couldn't find a trace of a Baby Firefly anywhere. Can't figure out your real name. Went to the hotel, the name you're listed under is a fake. The fuck is up with that? Los Santos is dripping with people who don't give a fuck about you." Trevor seemed genuinely interested in how she did it, but all criminals wanted to achieve the level of secrecy that she had worked so hard to obtain.

"Professionalism." She reiterated with a buzzed smile. Slapping the table, she slid from her booth and stood on her wobbly feet. She tossed some cash on the table, enough to cover her drinks, plus a few more.

"Have some beers on me. As payment for not bothering me at my room later tonight. Tell M where I'm staying, see you tomorrow for prep." Trevor lifted his hands in surrender, letting her leave without a hitch. She nodded to him, and left with a stumble.

She struggled to put the key into the door, but she managed after a handful of tries, slamming and locking the door behind her. All the excitement of the day came crashing down on her; Eris leaned against the door, face in her hands, vigorously rubbing to remind herself she was okay.

She slowly stripped on her way to the bathroom, a trail of shoes and clothes left in her wake. She caught herself in the mirror, mounted just outside the small bathroom. She rested her weight on the vanity counter, taking a good look at herself.

Stab scars and bullet wounds coated her skin, some faded with time and some quite prominent; all of which she wore with pride. Another interesting story, another time she survived; war wounds of the trade. Her eyes were drawn to her left shoulder; white veins dying for attention Eris didn't want to give. She had yet to learn how to love these scars.

She turned anyway. Shallow divots, lined with white, raised lines dancing around the pattern. Her entire mid to upper back was laced with these scars; the burn scars she was punished to wear. Eris sighed, feeling phantom pains from not so long ago. She walked away from the mirror, washed her face, and then collapsed on the surprisingly clean bed for some well-needed rest.


End file.
